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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24172618">Don't Look a Gift Goblin in the Mouth</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerFrost/pseuds/SummerFrost'>SummerFrost</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Fluff, Humor, Jaskier is down for a lil murder but not for killing a bath goblin, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Relationship, no monsters were harmed in the making of this fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:15:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,232</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24172618</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerFrost/pseuds/SummerFrost</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“No, I’m serious, I really do have like, uh—a goblin… thing… in my house!” Jaskier insists. “Will you come take a look at it? I don’t want it to, I don’t know, eat my liver or something?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Geralt massages at his temple. “Very few monsters are that picky. It would probably just eat all of you.”</i>
</p><p>Aka: The one where Jaskier hires Geralt to investigate a monster in his house, and the outcome is somehow better and worse than Geralt expects.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>107</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Don't Look a Gift Goblin in the Mouth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, this fic was directly inspired by <a href="https://jaskeer.tumblr.com/post/617848718636580864/thank-u-netflix-for-making-me-realize-my-true">this Tumblr post</a> about bath goblins, and then enabled by soundslikepenance and daryskart. That's,,, really all i have to say about it xD Also, thanks to agroussunderstatement for the words of encouragement and the title &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier finishes toweling off his hair, wraps himself in his favorite robe, and heads into the living room to enjoy his nice evening by the fire. Upon arriving at his reading chair, however, he discovers that he’s forgotten his book next to the bath. </p><p>“Can’t have a relaxing evening without a good book,” he murmurs absently to himself. It’s been a few days since he’s interacted with another human being, but it’s raining something fierce outside and he hasn’t managed the motivation necessary to slog to the tavern in that. It’s fine, though—surely the rain will let up soon and he can see what all the fuss is about with respect to a recent visitor to their fine town and stop talking to his paintings.</p><p>Jaskier is occupied with such thoughts when he wanders back into the bathroom, and is then immediately divested of them when his eyes land on a horrible and confusing creature that looks like what children draw when they are asked to draw other children, with the notable exception of a rather elongated tongue that is licking up the grime on the side of his bathtub.</p><p>Jaskier screams. The disgusting little goblin screams. The woman who lives next door to him screams in confused solidarity.</p><p>“Lovely evening for a walk,” Jaskier tells the goblin inanely, then slams the door with them both firmly on opposite sides. “As you were!”</p><p> </p><p>~*~</p><p> </p><p>Geralt drops the sack of drowner heads on the alderman’s doorstep and knocks on the front door, loudly and repeatedly. He waits patiently, the rain washing him clean of ichor and guts, until a young child opens the door a crack and pokes their nose out to peer up at him.</p><p>“Are you the Witcher?” asks the child.</p><p>“Yeah.” Geralt kicks the sack. “Where’s your father?”</p><p>“Are those monster bits?” the child asks instead.</p><p>“Yeah,” says Geralt. “Where’s your father?”</p><p>The child reaches for the bag. “Can I see?”</p><p>Geralt spits out a mouthful of rainwater, bloodied by a loose tooth. “I don’t know, can you go get your father?”</p><p>“He’s at the tavern,” the child answers absently. They lunge for the sack, which Geralt snatches away from them. “Aww, but I wanna—”</p><p>“Ask your father,” Geralt tells them patiently, “after he pays me.”</p><p>The child opens the door wider in order to pout more effectively up at him.</p><p>Geralt rolls his eyes, which are still pitch black, and unties the sack to reveal the severed heads—bracing himself for a scream.</p><p><em> “Cool!” </em>says the child, who promptly sticks their hand in the bag and prods a drowner in the gooey eye. “Thanks, mister!”</p><p>Geralt tugs the bag away before the child can lose a finger to the rows of teeth. “I’m going now. Stay inside. It’s bad weather.”</p><p>“But don’t you need directions to the tavern?” the child asks, wide-eyed.</p><p>“I know where it is,” Geralt answers, which is partially true. He can hear the sounds of merrymaking with the effects of his potions still lingering. “Does it have a stable? For my horse.”</p><p>The child nods eagerly.</p><p>“Thanks.” Geralt nods back, then hesitates when he goes to re-tie his sack. He reaches inside and pries free a few scales, which he tosses to the child. “For your help.”</p><p>The child’s eyes go impossibly wider. They dart back inside the house, probably to hide their new treasure, and leave the door open and unlocked behind them.</p><p>“Fucking—” Geralt mutters, and pulls it shut for them. “Lock your damn door!” </p><p>There’s a peal of laughter from inside the house. Geralt shakes his head and returns to Roach, who is soaking wet and grazing dejectedly under a tree. </p><p>“Sorry, Roach,” he murmurs, securing the sack to her saddle again. “Almost there.” </p><p>She flicks an ear at him.</p><p>Thankfully, the tavern is a short walk. Geralt would rather wait for his potions to wear off before going inside, but it’s a cold rain and Roach feels it, even if he doesn’t. He stables her around back preemptively, then grits his teeth to brace for the cacophony of sensation. </p><p>The alderman is, thankfully, near the door. He pays Geralt fairly, which could be considered a miracle, if Geralt believed in them, and apologizes for any strangeness observed in his child.</p><p>Geralt answers with a shrug and slinks to the bar. He likes conversing with children. The precocious ones tend to be the only people who view him with something other than fear. </p><p>The barmaid was not a precocious child. She shrinks away from him when he flags her down, pointedly avoiding looking him in the eye. </p><p>He can’t blame her. He’s seen his reflection.</p><p>“How much for a room?” he asks anyway, though. “And board for my horse?”</p><p>“Um, you’re welcome to stable your horse,” she answers, fidgeting with her apron. “But we’re booked full, I’m afraid, from the storm.”</p><p>Geralt can’t tell if she’s lying, from how quickly her heart was already racing. He grunts anyway, and pays for Roach. He’s camped outside in worse. </p><p>“I’ll come for her in the morning,” he says, and goes to take his leave.</p><p>“Wait, Witcher? Wait!” someone calls, and all of a sudden a sopping wet man dressed like a peacock is standing directly between Geralt in the door. “You are the—<em> wow, </em>your eyes are fascinating! Are they always like that? I’ve always wanted to meet a Witcher. I’ve got a spare room—and coin—for you if you can help me. There’s a horrible little monster in my house, simply the worst thing I’ve ever seen—”</p><p>“Did you look in the mirror again, Jaskier?” another man jeers from across the bar. </p><p>“Saw a painting of you, darling!” The man—Jaskier—calls back, blowing a kiss. </p><p>Geralt snorts, unamused, and moves to brush past him for the door.</p><p>Jaskier, fucking remarkably, <em> blocks </em>him.</p><p>Geralt’s so shocked by the fucking audacity of it that he forgets to push the human out of the way.</p><p>“No, I’m serious, I really do have like, uh—a <em> goblin… </em>thing… in my house!” Jaskier insists. “Will you come take a look at it? I don’t want it to, I don’t know, eat my liver or something?”</p><p>Geralt massages at his temple. “Very few monsters are that picky. It would probably just eat all of you.”</p><p>“That’s <em> so </em> comforting, thank you so much!” Jaskier grins brightly. “See, this is why I need you, Witcher. You’ll come help me? Did I mention I have a fireplace to dry your clothes? And a hot bath, although that’s where the monster is so there’s probably an order of events that needs to transpire there. I will <em> pay </em>you to come bathe—that makes you sound like a prostitute. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I’m actually a big fan of… prostitutes.” </p><p>“I’ll do it for free if you stop talking,” Geralt snaps. He finally remembers himself and bodily relocates Jaskier to get to the door.</p><p>“I’ve heard that one before, actually!” Jaskier informs him, which somehow is unsurprising. “I live right over the bridge, follow me!” </p><p>“Hm,” says Geralt, with the lingering suspicion that he’ll regret all of this.</p><p>He follows Jaskier to a nice, small cottage that’s built close to the riverbank. Dangerously close to where the drowners had been swimming up and eating people, but the bard—as Geralt learns, against his will, is the man’s profession—seems unaware of that. </p><p>“Anyway, that’s all the songs I’m working on,” Jaskier is saying cheerfully. He opens the front door without having to unlock it. </p><p>What’s wrong with the people in this town?</p><p>“Here we are!” Jaskier strips out of his doublet immediately upon entering, and takes off water-logged boots. “As I said, I saw the little goblin-thing in the bath, if you wanted to investigate. Oh, but feel free to dry off first. I’m assuming it’s not going to brutally murder us in the next half hour?”</p><p>“Hm,” Geralt says, and stays in his armor. “Probably not. How often do you clean your bath?”</p><p>Jaskier sniffs dramatically. “Well <em> that’s </em>a deeply personal question.”</p><p>Geralt raises an eyebrow. His vision is finally returning to normal, which is a relief.</p><p>“All the gunk sort of…” Jaskier gestures vaguely with a hand and goes over to stoke the fire. “Boils off when you take the next bath, doesn’t it?”</p><p>“Not according to your akaname,” Geralt answers drily. He squeezes the excess water from his hair and ties it away from his face, then wanders towards the back of the house. “Where’s the bathroom?”</p><p>“My aka-what?” asks Jaskier, following Geralt down the hallway. He jabs a finger in the direction of a door at the end of the hall, then pointedly jumps behind Geralt to hide. “That one there.”</p><p>Geralt listens carefully through the door, but the room is clearly empty. Probably scared away by all the noise. He opens the door to find his assumption correct; nothing in the room except for a large wooden tub, an offensive-smelling collection of bath salts, and a damp book upturned on the floor.</p><p>“Akaname,” Geralt repeats, walking into the bathroom and finding himself a spot as far away from the salts as possible. He sits down with his legs crossed, laying his silver sword in his lap, and rests his head against the wall. “They’re rare, and harmless. Have to see it to make sure.”</p><p>Jaskier plops down next to him on the floor. “Well, is there something else it could be?”</p><p>“There’s always something else it could be,” Geralt says. “Now be quiet, or it won’t show up.”</p><p>“But what’ll you do with it?” Jaskier asks, looking over at him and then down at the sword. “You’re not going to kill it, are you?”</p><p>Geralt scowls. “Isn’t that what you’re paying me for?”</p><p>“Well, I’m paying you because I would <em> very </em>much prefer to not become something’s dinner.” Jaskier taps his fingers on his knee. “Can’t you just, I don’t know—rough it up a bit and tell it to scram?”</p><p>Geralt’s lips twitch without his permission. “It’s not a gambler being run out of a bawdy house.”</p><p>“Well, just—” Jaskier holds up his hands. “Just don’t be too hasty with the slicey-slicey, okay?”</p><p>Geralt glances over at him—big eyes, bright teeth. Hard to place, age-wise, which is a common problem for Geralt with humans. Their years begin to blur together after a while. But this one seems on the younger side, with more in common with the child who stuck their finger in a drowner’s eye than the weary alderman. </p><p>“Maybe you should wait in the other room,” Geralt tells him. “Or better yet, go to sleep.”</p><p>“Nah,” says Jaskier. “That’s boring.”</p><p>Geralt looks up at the ceiling. “Did I mention it won’t come out if you’re talking?”</p><p>“I can be quiet!” Jaskier says loudly. “You won’t even notice me. I’ll be naught but silent backup!”</p><p>“Hm,” says Geralt.</p><p>Several seconds pass in blessed silence. </p><p>“You know,” Jaskier says. “I never caught your name.” </p><p>“Geralt.”</p><p>“How long have you been a Witcher, Geralt?”</p><p>“Since before you were born.”</p><p>Jaskier brings his knees up to his chest. “I bet you’ve seen the whole Continent. I’ve done a bit of travelling myself, mostly on main roads. Oh, got kidnapped by bandits for a while. That wasn’t ideal. I <em> loved </em>Posada, have you been to Posada?”</p><p>“Yes,” Geralt grits out. It’s gonna be a long night.</p><p>“Posada didn’t like <em> me </em>very much, mind you, but that’s how it is sometimes.” Jaskier pauses, his words maybe catching up with his brain. “Here is decent, though. I make a living, at least.”</p><p>Geralt stares out over the room, at the mirror that is, thankfully, above eye level. “Most places don’t like me.”</p><p>“Has anyone ever suggested it might be the smell?” Jaskier offers brightly. “You really should take me up on the bath after this is over.”</p><p>Geralt snorts, shaking his head minutely. It’s… rare, meeting someone so unafraid of him. Especially an adult. But there’s no use in letting it go to his head—there’s plenty of time for this one to change his mind, maybe at the same point he changes his mind about letting Geralt spare the akaname.</p><p>Another period of silence. Then, Jaskier says, "Ooh, my book!" and scrambles to his feet to retrieve it.</p><p>Geralt watches him fuss over the damp pages, airing them out the best he can, and then shrinks to the side when Jaskier squeezes back into the same corner as him. </p><p>"Do you have to sit so close?" Geralt grumbles.</p><p>Jaskier licks his thumb, flipping through his book. "What if it isn't an akaname and I get eaten?"</p><p>"I'd move into your house," Geralt says drily, "and get some goddamn peace."</p><p>"I'd haunt you ferociously," Jaskier informs him pleasantly. "Now shh, I've just gotten to the good part."</p><p>A muscle jumps in Geralt's jaw. "The akaname likes the dark. We need to blow out the—"</p><p>
  <em> "Shh!" </em>
</p><p>Geralt inhales sharply through his nose. This bastard better pay him when this is over.</p><p>He waits patiently, surveying the room with caution. At least the book keeps his forcible companion occupied, though the candles are probably too numerous to lure anything out. The storm continues to howl outside; he's glad there's a roof over Roach's head—and one over his, too.</p><p>Eventually, the book slips from Jaskier's fingers as he slouches over in sleep. He mumbles something unintelligible under his breath and—</p><p>Geralt stiffens.</p><p>—nuzzles against Geralt's armored shoulder. </p><p>Geralt can hear the steady, relaxed beat of Jaskier's pulse. His smell is as loud as his voice—herbed bath salts and a heavy-handed dabbing of perfume. </p><p>No one sleeps next to Geralt. Not so readily. </p><p>It's disquieting. Geralt uses a gentle burst of Aard to extinguish the candles, dilating his pupils to observe the nearly pitch-dark room.</p><p>His patience is rewarded by a cautious scuffling near the tub, followed by a deeply unpleasant slurping sound.</p><p>Geralt was right—akaname. He can't move to catch it without displacing the bard.</p><p>"Hey," Geralt mutters, irritated that he didn't shake Jaskier awake from the beginning. "Hey, get up."</p><p>Jaskier, to his rare credit, wakes up quietly. "Whazzat?"</p><p>"It's here," Geralt mutters. "Look."</p><p>"Oh, excellent!" Jaskier enthuses in a whisper. "One teensy problem—I can't see shit."</p><p>Geralt frowns. He doesn't really <em> want </em>Jaskier to see the monster—he's sure he'll take one look at the thing and want it dead, and these kind of contracts always leave Geralt with a sour taste for days. </p><p>"I can't light the candles without spooking it," he says.</p><p>"Fair enough." Jaskier sits up a little, patting Geralt on the knee. "Are you going to catch it, then?"</p><p>Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose. "Do you… want me to catch it?"</p><p>"Well how else will you—"</p><p>The slurping sound stops.</p><p>"Fuck," says Geralt, and lunges.</p><p>He manages to get a hold on the thing after it yelps, bites him on the arm—failing to pierce his armor—and slaps him in the face with its tongue. </p><p>Fucking disgusting.</p><p>"Ooh, excellent Witchering!" Jaskier tells him. "At least, I'm assuming. I still can't see shit. <em> Now </em>can we light the candles?"</p><p>The akaname wriggles ineffectually in Geralt's grip. It whimpers, tiny feet scrabbling against the floor.</p><p>Geralt stifles the twinge in his chest. No use in dragging it out.</p><p>He lifts his free hand and uses Igni on the nearest candle, scorching the wall in the process. Oops.</p><p>Jaskier either doesn't notice or doesn't care. He brings it around the room and lights the rest of them, then covers his mouth when he turns around and sees the creature.</p><p>"Melitele's tits," he says, muffled by the hand. "Oh, it's the most terrible thing I've ever <em> seen, </em>how delightful!"</p><p>"What," Geralt asks.</p><p>Jaskier crouches down in front of them. "Ohh, look at his wittle <em> eyes! </em> Hello there, you disgusting little creature. Does the tongue just… <em> do </em>that? It seems rather inconvenient."</p><p>Geralt says nothing.</p><p>"So what do we do with it?" Jaskier asks. He reaches out as if to touch the creature's head, but withdraws quickly when it hisses at him. "Can you, I don't know, release it?"</p><p>Geralt clears his throat. "It's born from the grime in this place. If I take it somewhere, it'll just come back."</p><p>"I don't like what you're implying about my tidiness, but I'll ignore it." Jaskier tilts his head. "So what if I clean up?"</p><p>"It'll starve," Geralt answers flatly. "Maki—letting me kill it would be kinder."</p><p>Jaskier claps his hands together. "Perfect! As if I <em> needed </em>another excuse to not do my chores."</p><p>The akaname starts to struggle again. Geralt tightens his grip and asks, "What?"</p><p>"I think we should name it," Jaskier muses absently. "Do you think he looks like a 'Valdo?'"</p><p>"You're keeping it?" Geralt asks.</p><p>"Of course I am." Jaskier blinks at him. "I mean, I <em> personally </em> find the idea of it licking up my old bathwater incredibly disgusting, but I've put my mouth on all <em> kinds </em> of places, so I can't really judge, now can I?"</p><p>Slowly, Geralt loosens his hold on the akaname. It makes a repulsive chittering slurp as it scrambles away from them, cowering in the corner of the room.</p><p>The implication is… distracting.</p><p>"'Valdo' might be the insult to the noble goblin, if I'm being honest." Jaskier pushes to his feet and offers a hand to help Geralt up too. "What do you think?"</p><p>Geralt swallows. "Uh. Is Valdo an ex-lover?"</p><p>"Oh, he <em> wishes." </em>Jaskier sticks his tongue out derisively. "My taste in men is much better than that."</p><p>"Oh," says Geralt.</p><p>"In any case," Jaskier says, a hand arcing through the air as he blows out the candles and wanders back out of the bathroom. "I'll still pay you for your time, of course—my liver is safe another night. And you're welcome to the guest room. I promise it's cleaner than the bath—I hardly ever have guests."</p><p>"Because you talked your last one to death?" Geralt asks drily, following him back to the front room.</p><p>Jaskier wags a disapproving finger at him. "Hush, or I'll sick Valdo on you. Actually, do you think I could train him to do that? Or do you take contracts out on humans, because I have this feud—"</p><p>"No."</p><p>"Worth a shot." Jaskier retrieves a coin purse from above his fireplace. His hair is starting to curl at the edges as it dries from the rain. "How much do I owe you? I don't really know the going rate for bath goblin-related services."</p><p>Geralt clears his throat and decides to make a mistake.</p><p>"A drink," he says. "Would do."</p><p>Jaskier's smile in response is wicked—bright and delightful, with the same understated sharpness he used to casually ask Geralt to commit murder.</p><p>"Looks like I got it wrong," he says, drifting closer again as the rain clatters against the roof. "The akaname isn't the one who wants my liver."</p><p>"I told you," Geralt says to the smile, which now pulls at Jaskier's bottom lip. "Most monsters aren't that picky."</p><p>Jaskier looks up, eyes flashing, and then flits back across the room to retrieve a bottle of spirits from a shelf. </p><p>"I suppose we'll see where the night takes us, then," he says, beckoning Geralt towards the hearth.</p><p>"Hm," agrees Geralt, and joins him by the fire.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I mean, is the goblin a metaphor for how Geralt views himself? Maybe. Don't worry about it :) Also, the akaname is actually a yokai from Japanese urban legends! It was modestly adapted to fit in the Witcherverse. </p><p>Come follow me <a href="https://yoursummerfrost.tumblr.com/">on my Tumblr</a> for more shenanigans!</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
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